


All I'm seeing is you

by Alticry



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Keith (Voltron), Dancer Lance (Voltron), M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2018-12-17 05:50:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11845251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alticry/pseuds/Alticry
Summary: Keith is an artist who cannot complete his own paintings. He's about to fail his classes, but he can't seem to be able to put the freedom he wants onto his works. That is, until Pidge introduces him to Lance, a dancer who takes Keith's breath away and makes him want to draw him incessantly.But Keith feels personally foiled by destiny when Lance turns out to be, well, not what he expected in terms of attitude.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This is my first Voltron fic, but i'm very excited to write it, since I love Keith and Lance's dynamic and I love artist Keith and dancer Lance with all my heart.
> 
> Title is taken from Mika's Talk About You.

Keith brushed bright red onto the canvas, curling it and doing quick strokes. He took a darker red, and grunted when he made a mistake. The colors were wrong. The whole painting was wrong. He took the black paint, opened it, and dumped it over the fresh canvas. His professor looked at him and sighed, a pained look on his face, and rubbed his temples. Keith kept doing that with all of his projects. 

He needed to actually _finish_ something or he would fail this class. 

Afterwards, while cleaning up, picking up his sketchbook and his bag and trying to bolt, his professor said that exact thing to him.

Finals were coming up, and Keith knew he needed to make a lot of final pieces for his grade, but everything was turning out _wrong_ and it wasn’t his fault nothing was right. 

So he kept throwing out his works. 

He returned to his room to, what Shiro called, brood (Though he would never accept that choice of words). If he wanted to sit and stare at the wall for hours it wasn’t anybody’s business. Finally, he chose to flip through his sketchbook. Corners of it curling from the use, drops of paint scattered randomly, and swift graphite lines looked back at him while he went from sketch to sketch. He liked his art. He knew he was good. But for some reason every time he tried to complete a large-scale painting or drawing, he never managed to repeat the ease and flow his sketches had.

And his professor would _not_ accept sketches for grades. He made that clear at the start of the semester. Keith was going to fail. 

Groaning, he dropped his head into his hands, annoyed with himself for not being able to finish anything, and for acting out so quickly with his current art. 

He used to be able to complete things, but it took him an incredibly long time until he was pleased with it, until his drawings were perfect in his mind. So people started to advise him into trying to be quicker, to let go of certain mistakes and embrace them, and Keith was able to do it. Partly. Once he tried sketching more freely, without trying to give every single sketch that perfect finished style, he fell in love with the technique. He liked how free it was, how it wasn’t following certain rules. The problem was, once he tried to recreate his sketches into bigger, more complete drawings, he failed. His hand kept perfecting the lines, erasing the easy flows, dissolving its movement. He felt like everything he tried to do on a bigger scale was as rigid as a plank of wood. 

He was startled off his thoughts by his phone buzzing. 

**Pidge** **(6:05)**  
Hey 

**Pidge** **(6:06)**  
When r u coming over?

 **Pidge** **(6:10)**  
I know ur out of class I can track ur phone nd I know ur still in ur room

 **Pidge** **(6:20)**  
Don’t leave me hanging waiting for u I will look so dumb

 **Pidge** **(6:31)**  
UGH KEITH r u staring at the wall again

Keith swore under his breath and hurriedly typed a response. Fuck. He was supposed to meet Pidge after class to watch that documentary she found.

 **Keith** **(6:32)**  
Srry got distracted. Class sucked

Pidge immediately answered. 

**Pidge** **(6:32)**  
HA knew it. 

**Pidge** **(6:32)**  
What happened?

 **Keith** **(6:34)**  
Dumped black paint over my work 

**Pidge** **(6:34)**  
Again?

Keith sighed miserably. He really was so predictable. 

**Keith** **(6:35)**  
Not my fault my professor has a stick up his ass and won’t accept pencil sketches

 **Pidge** **(6:36)**  
Normally I would love to condone cursing out professors, but I think this time it’s your fault 

**Keith** **(6:36)**  
No.

 **Pidge** **(6:37)**  
You literally can’t finish anything 

**Pidge** **(6:40)**  
Don’t ignore me for speaking the truth

 **Keith** **(6:42)**  
Whatever. I’m omw

Keith left his room, headed to Pidge’s dorm. Halfway there he got another text.

 **Pidge** **(6:50)**  
HEY I got an idea meet me @ the dance studios

 **Pidge** **(6:50)**  
Bring ur sketchbook

Keith squinted at the text, trying to make sure he read it correctly. Dance studios? Since when does Pidge go there? She’s majoring on computer studies, and he’s pretty sure she doesn’t minor on dance. Where are the studios anyway? 

The answer was the other side of campus, apparently. Once he got there, after uncomfortably having to ask a stranger for directions, Keith saw Pidge waiting for him outside the building. She had her short hair up in a messy half-ponytail, and she was staring deeply into her phone, tapping madly. 

He sneaked up behind her and put his hand on her neck, smirking when she jumped away from him, he didn’t get a shriek, but a flinch was enough. One day he would crack her. 

“Asshole.” Pidge said, once she turned around and recognized him. “Why are your hands so cold?”

“I’m a ghost.” Keith answered. “Why are we here?”

“There’s a ballet class going on right now.” She said, walking towards the door. 

Keith waited a second before going after her. “And?”

Pidge sighed. “Obviously you’re going to draw them. Get some inspiration, stare at people, whatever you artists do.” 

Keith blinked once. Twice. Then he quickly said. “Pidge we can’t just barge into a lesson. We don’t go here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Relax. Friends take the class. They told me it’s open for anyone to watch. I’ve been here a couple times.” They went towards the stairs. “Besides, we won’t be IN the class, there’s windows. “

Turned out the windows were above the biggest studio. Apparently, the building had various smaller dance studios, but the main one, found right on the middle of the building, reached up until the second floor, where it was covered completely with windows and you could look down into the class. Benches were placed around them, obviously meant for spectators. 

Warm yellow light from the room seemed to surround the whole floor, and once Keith got closer, and peered down into the actual studio, he understood what Pidge meant. 

It was mesmerizing, seeing people dance in unison on a different angle. Usually you expect to see dancers straight on, if not a little lower, but usually you had their body in front of you. But this was completely different. The first thing he saw was the top of the heads, and then their bodies, flowing, stretching, and seemingly floating. Not only the angle was interesting and different, but the feeling Keith got from watching them in a higher place and the way their bodies moved got him itching to grab his sketchbook and a pencil. Pidge must’ve seen something in his expression, because she laughed. 

“Amazing, right? I come here when I can’t focus. Usually when Allura or Lance have class. I can stay hours watching them from up here.”

Keith simply nodded, opening his bag and taking his sketchbook out. He sat on a bench, or rather knelt on it, balancing his sketchbook on the ledge of the window. He started moving his hand. 

He wasn’t even looking down at what he was drawing. He saw arms, legs, bending in incredible, beautiful ways. He saw the dancers bend down, and he marveled at the way their backs curved, so he put that down on his sketches. He couldn’t hear the music, or what the instructor was saying, but everything seemed to flow easily on his mind. Once they stopped dancing, for a break, it seemed, he finally looked down. He’d filled the entire page with quick sketches. He could make out some complete forms, but most of them were just parts of a single position, arms bending, feet positioned delicately, legs straightened out. 

Pidge’s voice carried him away from his quick lines. “That ones Allura.” He looked at who Pidge was pointing, A tall, dark skinned girl, her silver hair tied on a bun that once looked tight, but now had hair falling out, framing her face. She was gorgeous. Keith instantly wanted to paint her portrait on a large canvas. She belonged on a museum. 

“And that’s Lance.” Keith’s mouth immediately went dry, as he stared down onto him. Lance, at the moment, was stretching, talking with a girl in front of him. He was smiling in a way that made Keith stop breathing. He picked up his pencil, ready to put it on paper, but before he could do it, he turned away. Keith breathed out, disappointed. He recognized Lance better now. He’d definitely been staring at him a lot, initially. He’d been one of the dancers he sketched more. 

A particular sketch was a full body one. Drawn with swift, certain strokes, he had his leg back, his back curving, arms stretched upwards. It had been one of Keith’s favorite sketches, and the more he stared at it, the more he wished he could dedicate more time to draw Lance. His long, thin body was perfect for the movements and positions he had been watching, Keith knew nothing of ballet and dancing in general, but he could tell Lance was _good_. And he seemed to enjoy it a lot. 

He kept following him with his eyes, and asked Pidge, “How do you know them?” 

“I know Lance from Hunk. You know, that guy in my mathematics class? He’s an engineer major, he’s been over to study before.” 

Keith nods slowly, his memory a blur, pulling himself apart, until a hazy image of a large, nervous guy wearing an orange bandana forms in his head. “Yeah, I think I remember him.”

Pidge continues. “Well, his roommate is Lance. They’re practically inseparable. You friend one, the other comes too. It’s a ‘buy one, get one free’ deal. Lance is a Dance major.”

The guy in question is now talking to Allura. Keith can’t see Lance’s face, but whatever he said made Allura roll her eyes and shake her head. 

Pidge is also staring at them. “I met Allura at the library. She works there some times. I had this massive essay, and I was loosing my mind because I couldn’t find any information. She listened to me panic and let me info dump on her, and then found me the book that had all the answers; she’s a miracle.” 

Keith smirked, “You? Praising someone without being forced to? I don’t believe it.”

Pidge narrowed her eyes but her lips pulled a smirk. “Only Allura. She’s seriously out of this world. After that, we became very good friends." They both kept staring at her. She was talking with their instructor, a woman with a tight frown and equally tight bun. But somehow, Allura got a laugh out of her. 

Keith noticed they were getting into position again, and he grabbed his pencil and sketchbook again. This time, he focused on the faces that now had names. He sketched a bit of Allura’s waist bending to the side, her legs crossing, but his gaze seemed to find Lance most of the time. He had quite a charm on the way he moved. He was obviously experienced, since he knew everything flawlessly and flowed with a grace Keith didn’t know was possible. He kept sketching him, trying to get his factions perfectly, the way his hands folded or spread. But the rough lines that formed his torso on Keith’s sketchbook were not close at all to the elegant reality that he saw. He was somewhat irritated, but also glad he had something so _alive_ to draw. He’d never felt a pull this large in a long time, and he was sure he could never get enough of it. 

He went through a lot of pages, and he was upset when the class ended and the dancers left the room. He flipped through what he had drawn, noticing blatant mistakes but loving the freedom the lines had. Sketching like this made him feel the same ardent excitement riding his bike gave him. It was like a breath of fresh air. 

Pidge stared at the drawings while he flipped through them, not saying anything, but Keith knew she was scanning them carefully, and he knew she could definitely see how much of Lance he had sketched. 

When Keith settled, pointedly ignoring her, and ready to leave, she stopped him, grinning mischievously. Keith was instantly scared. 

“Do you wanna meet them?” She said, innocently. 

“No thank you.” Keith said, wanting desperately to leave.

“But you _have_ to meet-” She poked the sketchbook in Keith’s hands with a force that made him take a step back. “Your muse.” 

Keith glared at her, starting to completely shut her off, before she grabbed his arm and took him downstairs. 

He heard muffled voices that grew larger with every step that they took, and he felt his stomach churn alongside it. 

They reached the first floor, where a lot of the dancers were already there, chatting between them, and leaving the building. Keith desperately hoped Allura and Lance had left already. They didn’t know, right? Pidge hadn’t told them they were there?

“I told them we were coming before you got here.” Pidge said, smirking. 

Keith closed his eyes. Of course.

“Ah, there they are!” Pidge grabbed Keith and dragged him towards the start of a corridor, where two people were walking from. 

Allura had let her hair down, it cascaded down her back in dazzling curls, she looked tired, but her face instantly lit up when she saw Pidge. 

“Pidge!” Lance said, before Allura could say anything. He looked extremely cheerful and handsome even after a two hour-long class. Keith was so mad. “You haven’t come to a class in forever. If you’d tell me earlier I’d sent you finger guns. I saw your text after class.” 

Pidge groaned. “And for that I’m glad. We came here half through the class, it was a spur of the moment decision.” Allura hugged her, and Lance tousled her hair. Keith glared at the floor.

That was when Allura spotted him. “Hey! I’m Allura. Are you a friend of Pidge?” She smiled, her voice warm and comforting from the very start.

Keith started, “Uh-“ but got interrupted. 

“You’re Keith, right?” Lance said, crossing his arms and for some reason glaring at him. Keith was too distracted by the curls in his short brown hair to really answer. 

“Ah, you share minors, right? Astronomy.” Pidge said.

“Yeah, he’s the guy that always beats me!” Lance’s voice went an octave too high, and Pidge snorted. 

“Wait that’s _him?_ Oh man, this is the best day of my life.”

“Wait- what do you mean?” Keith asked, confused. He was so lost in the conversation.

“C’mom man! I’m Lance! We share like, a bunch of classes!” Keith stared at him. “You always beat my ass in exams for like, one place! We’re like, rivals!” 

Keith frowned, confused. “I- don’t really know you.”

Lance made a resentful noise. “I can’t believe it.” He moved his hands around him, expressively. “This is the worst. You think you’re so good; you don’t even bother learning people’s names. Or faces.” 

Keith’s irritation started to flare up. “Wait. I remember you. You’re that annoying guy that always speaks out loud even though literally nobody asked for your input.” 

Lance gasped, and stepped closer to Keith. Before he could say anything, though, Allura grabbed his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter! Let’s imagine this is the first time meeting each other.” She grinned, but Lance kept glaring at Keith, making these, weird signals and movements with his hands. Keith assumed it was supposed to be some kind of warning, but Keith only thought he looked ridiculous. Suddenly his sketches seemed less like real life, and more like the beautiful reality that could’ve been, if Lance hadn’t been so _annoying_.

“Pidge told us you were here to sketch?” Allura asked softly, nicely, and she really did seem curious, so Keith silently opened his sketchbook. With a bright red face, of course, now realizing he’d shown Lance his mountain of sketches of him. 

“Wow! These are really good!” Allura said, grabbing the sketchbook to see better. “You did this from up there?” 

Keith nodded, and he crossed his arms. “I’m an Art major.” He doesn’t know why he said that, since it doesn’t really answer Allura’s question and nobody really asked him, but he felt the need to say it, although he felt stupid now. Whatever. 

Keith then stared at Lance, who was looking down at the drawings carefully. He seemed engrossed on them, any stroke of anger that was there before gone, replaced by a subtle awe. Keith felt his heart hammering away, wanting desperately to have Lance agree to let Keith sketch him more. But, he wasn’t really a people person, and he didn’t know how to ask. He was pretty sure Lance hated him. 

Lance looked up and saw Keith staring at him. They locked eyes for a second before Lance raised an eyebrow. Keith tried to communicate his best ‘What do you think?’ with only his face, since he felt like he couldn’t really find his voice in that moment. 

But Lance seemed to understand, because he said, “Pretty basic.” 

Keith felt like he was on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter!!!
> 
> I mostly posted this without having a very concrete plan in mind, but it's because i really want to push myself into actually finishing this, so i thought that posting it would make me continue. 
> 
> My tumblr is drpamelaisely.tumblr.com if u wanna hit me up and talk or smth


	2. Chapter 2

If you were to ask Keith, months before, that he would become obsessed with the idea of drawing a particular person, he would laugh. Keith would never do that! He’s a loner, he works better on his own, without depending on someone else. But now, he couldn’t imagine not trying to draw Lance.

And that was it, wasn’t it? The universe’s big joke on Keith; he got immense inspiration while watching a single person dance, but that same person had a ridiculous grudge on him, even though they’ve never met. Or, that’s what Keith believed. No, was _sure_ of. Days after meeting him for the first time, Keith was recalling fuzzy memories, of Lance talking loudly in a lot of Keith’s classes, faintly remembered a head of brown hair a few seats below his, and when he saw his sketches again, he could perfectly picture him in his classes. 

Keith wanted to desperately go back to the studio, to the class, to see them dance. Well, to see _Lance_ dance. Not that anyone cared about that detail. 

The day after the Incident, Keith had walked up to the building, he had gone there right after class, but left before he got in. Fortunately, his stubbornness was as equally intense as his impulsivity. He wanted to go, but the irritation and anger Lance had provoked on him cause him to recoil with just the thought of going back there again. 

But, he could always go there and return without being seen. The windows were upstairs for a reason. But he couldn’t go and give Lance the opportunity to rile him up again; although he had been very effective the last time, since he couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

It irritated Keith to another level. That he was able to get this deeply into his head, but since he’d seen him Keith had managed to sketch more, with more dedication. Now, with his sketches, he tried to replicate the feeling he’d felt at that dance studios. He could graze it, but it was nothing near it. His head felt swarming with ideas, and he felt close to wanting to actually finish something in a larger scale. He just needed to go to the studios again. 

Keith felt like his balance was off and he desperately needed to fix it. 

By going back. 

So he did, two days after the first time. He walked quickly up the stairs, and halfway through realized there might not me any class at all. After all, he didn’t know any schedules or if _anyone_ was going to be there. 

But it was too late, and he was staring down, to the bright warm wooded floors, mirrors reflecting on the walls, and saw figures stretching. He looked around the moving sea of heads, until he stopped at a recognizable pair. Allura’s dazzling silver hair, and next to her, Lance was stretching against the bar by the wall. 

Keith let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

He arrived right at the start of the class, it seemed, and this time he could pay more attention to the long limbs on the stretches and on the warm-up exercises. Once they started dancing, though, that was different. Keith’s hand moved faster, working as if he was in class doing 15 second life drawings, trying to go back to the basics. 

After filling up a couple of pages, with quick strokes and barely-there lines, he pushed himself into doing clearer figures. Into doing shadow, light, the way Lance’s hair moved, the way other dancers moved in their own space, the way Allura positioned her arms very carefully. 

Sometime during a break, he noticed he was slightly out of breath, and his hand was cramped. He hadn’t been this focused in a single subject in such a long time. Probably since he was working with engraving and prints, something that got him riled up with anticipation. This feeling was close to it. 

There was something about the whole scene of the studio that pulled him closer. How closed off it was, how personal, the warm, orange tones, and even though he couldn’t hear anything but muffled voices here and there, he felt like he was watching scenes play out. From a movie, a play, or whatever, he was seeing something magical. 

He quickly checked his phone and noticed a few messages from Shiro. Questions, how was his day? Had he had dinner yet? How was he doing with his final assignments? Keith snapped a picture on one of his sketchbook sketches and sent him to him. He also noticed a few messages from Pidge, but he decided to read them later, and went back to work. 

Eventually, it had to end. He did not notice time slipping away, or how much his hand ached; instead he kept his focus on Lance, and his sweaty face. It shouldn’t be nice, but it somehow added to the scene and now he couldn’t imagine lance without those beads of sweat trickling down his temple. Keith wanted to look away, but couldn’t, and that was when Lance looked up. Directly into Keith.

Keith couldn’t see if there was a flash of recognition, because he bolted out of there; he gripped his sketchbook, not bothering to pack up, and ran down the stairs, mostly skipping some steps. He could feel his pulse in his ears, looking at the entrance, the owner of his escape, when he felt a loud voice calling after him. 

He kept going, but he heard it again, a ringing ‘KEITH’ cutting through him. He stopped and turned around. 

Lance was there; breathing heavily, still in his practice clothes, looking like he’d just ran a mile. 

“Hey dude.” Said Keith. 

Lance squinted his eyes. “Don’t ‘Hey dude’ me. What are you doing here?”

Keith shrugged. Lance stared, then sighed, when Keith wouldn’t answer.

“How did you know it was me?” Keith finally said, he’d found his voice, but it came awkwardly, rough, like he’d spent weeks at the desert with no water. 

“Are you serious? I spend half my classes behind you, I’d recognize that awful mullet everywhere.” 

Keith stiffly picked at his hair. “It’s not a mullet.”

To that, Lance smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? The 80’s are calling, man. They want it back.” 

“That’s barely an insult, try again next time.” Keith quipped. 

“What? There’ll be a next time?” Lance said, crossing his arms and looking far too good to be possibly human. Keith politely crammed up, looking for something cool to say, but Lance continued. “Not if you don’t even have a reason to be here, though.” 

Keith breathed out and held out his sketchbook, shrugging again. Lance’s eyebrows went farther up his face, and if Keith noticed his eyes went a bit softer, well, it wasn’t anyone’s business. He picked it up, and thumbed through the newest drawings. Keith could see a faint smile pulling his lips, not quite there, but Keith was hoping he could see it fully one day. He kept thinking about drawing Lance smiling, and his brain kinda tumbled over, so he blurted: 

“I want to keep drawing you.” 

Lance froze, and looked up at him, there was a split second of doubt (or fear) in his eyes, before he relaxed, dropped his eyelids, and said, “Why, you can’t get enough of me?” 

Keith was so caught in surprise by the change of tone that he just glared at him. Hard. 

“Or not, jeez, let go a bit, would you?” Lance said, closing the sketchbook and returning it to Keith. 

He blinked a couple times, but Keith could still feel a frown forming between his brows. “I mean, dancing.”

Lance cocked his head. “Just dancing?”

Keith wanted to say, and the details of your face, your easy smile I can’t quite see when you are talking to the rest of the dancers, your elegant poses, but he bit his tongue and simply nodded. 

Lance looked to the side, thinking, which gave Keith time to stare at his eyes and to feel his phone buzzing madly in his pocket. 

“Alright. But you owe me.” 

“What do you want?” Keith asked, awkwardly opening his arms.

Lance grinned, terribly, like he was about to make a stupid, dirty joke, but Keith cut him off. “Actually, don’t answer. Tell me later.”

“Will do. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Lance turned around and walked back on the corridor, towards the studio, by this time his fellow classmates were already walking out, fully clothed and giving Lance strange looks. “Bye, Mullet.”

“My name’s Keith.” He called back. 

“I know.”

Keith swallowed the dry on his throat, desperately wanting to drink something. His leg buzzed again and he remembered the existence of his phone. He read the million messages and missed calls he had while walking out.

First it was Shiro. 

**Shiro** **(8:08)**  
Where are you? Who are all these people dancing?

 **Shiro** **(8:15)**  
Pidge doesn’t know where you are either. I thought you hanged out with her after class?

 **Shiro** **(8:17)**  
I’m calling her.

 **Shiro** **(8:40)**  
Oh I’m so invested in this story now. Who’s Lance?

Fuck. Keith was going to kill Pidge.

Then, he saw the thousand missed calls from Pidge.

 **Pidge** **(8:16)**  
KEITH YOU WENT BACK

 **Pidge** **(8:16)**  
WITHOUT ME

 **Pidge** **(8:17)**  
I knew it, I’m always right.

 **Pidge** **(8:45)**  
Good luck with Shiro, by the way. He’s way more excited than I am.

 **Keith** **(9:15)**  
Excited about what, exactly?

 **Pidge** **(9:16)**  
omg he lives

 **Pidge** **(9:16)**  
obviously your love life, my favorite cryptid, spotted after 84 years 

**Keith** **(9:19)**  
idk what you’re talking about

 **Pidge** **(9:19)**  
you went back to see LANCE

 **Keith** **(9:21)**  
no I didn’t

 **Pidge** **(9:22)**  
Keith don’t lie to me

 **Keith** **(9:22)**  
Fine. Yes, I went to see the class again.

 **Pidge** **(9:23)**  
Thank you, that’s all I needed. I can die peacefully now. 

Keith put his phone back after that, annoyed at being so transparent with his friends. He was _not_ looking forward to see Shiro, and now Pidge would not stop bugging him. 

But, he was going to see Lance dance again tomorrow, and this time he wouldn’t have to sneak in and out. That alone took the irritation away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! i tried to update as quick as possible, but i'm the only person who starts a chaptered fic right at the start of the school year. 
> 
> These first chapters were more of a base, a stepoing ground, hopefully later chapters will be longer and more detailed!! 
> 
> Hope you liked it! If you see any blatant mistakes please tell me, I didn't really read it through without posting, since it's 1 am on a school night. (I'll do it later)
> 
>  
> 
> my tumblr if you wanna chat or something:  
> drpamelaisely.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

Lance was sitting in front of Hunk, who was peacefully eating his lunch and trying to complete a reading he needed for class later. Lance was restless. He couldn’t stop fidgeting and wasn’t able to eat a bite off his sandwich. Eventually Hunk grew weary of Lance’s fingers tapping wildly on the table and with a sigh closed his book. 

“What’s wrong?” Hunk said, folding his arms neatly and staring at him like he was an emotionally attentive parent. 

“Nothing. I’m bored.” Lance said, tapping a High School Musical song with his fingers. 

“There’s something on your mind.” Hunk said, eating a bite of his own sandwich.

“There’s always something on my mind.” 

“Yes, but today you’re _extra_ nervous for some reason.” Hunk studied him with narrowed eyes. “Is this about Keith again?” 

Lance gasped, but he didn’t make a sound, so he looked like an idiot with his soundless open mouth. “I knew it.” Hunk said, biting into his lunch again. 

“He has nothing to do with this! I wasn’t even thinking about him. _you’re_ the one who brought him up.” Lance closed his arms, now his leg jiggling strongly against the ground. 

Hunk raised an eyebrow, “What happened this time?” 

“There’s nothing happening. Not today. Especially not in the afternoon.” Lance had a habit of talking too much in times when he didn’t want to talk too much. 

“You’re seeing him later?” Hunk gasped. “Did you finally ask him out?” 

“What! I don’t want to go _out_ with him. Have you seen his stupid gloves? Who wears that! I’m not letting anyone with that kind of fashion sense near me.” Lance felt his face hot, he didn’t even like Keith, and he couldn’t stand him. 

“Alright, but, you _are_ seeing him later?” 

Damn, Hunk knew him so well.

“Yes. But it’s for like, official, school things.” Hunk looked more confused by the second. “He wants to sketch me or something. I don’t know, he’s an artist.” 

“Really? That’s cool! Is he minoring on Art?” 

“Nope, majoring. Apparently, I’m not the only person who decided to major on an art and minor in a scientific field. He’s definitely following me to spite me.” Lance huffed, putting a hand under his chin and resting on the table. 

“Wow, it’s like no one exists in this world except for you.” Hunk said, with the hint of a smile in his voice. 

“Exactly!” Lance exclaimed, getting a chuckle out of Hunk. “Anyway, yesterday I told him to come over the studio later. When I have my booked studio.” 

“You don’t let anyone interrupt you when you’re practicing by yourself.” Hunk said, grinning. 

Lance glared at him. “What are you trying to say?” And maybe his voice cracked a bit when he said _you_ but, who could tell? 

“Nothing,” Hunk raised his hands. “It’s just weird, I guess. When did you see him yesterday?”

“He was at the studio last night, too.” Lance sighed. “Like he’s following me. A shark, sniffing blood. Actually, that’s an insult to sharks. He’s like, a lion, looking for his prey.” 

Hunk hummed. “Male lions don’t hunt, though. Only the lionesses.” 

“Who cares, he’s a lioness, whatever.” Lance finally shoved his food into his mouth. “I’m actually pretty nervous about today.” 

Only, he had food in his mouth, so it sounded like ahmactuamypfettynevousaboufofay. But Hunk understood. 

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth.” He said, which got an eye roll from Lance as answer. “Honestly, I think it’s pretty cool he wants to draw you. And that’s all he wants, right? Just imagine he’s not there."

“Easy to say.” Lace sighed, and leaned back. “Ugh! Why did I invite him?” 

“Because deep down you want to spend more time with him and get to know him better.” Hunk leaned forward and whispered. “You want to be his _friend_.” 

“Ew.” Said Lance. 

At that moment, Allura sat next to him, taking one of Lance’s fries. “Hello.” 

Hunk waved cheerily. “Don’t you have class right now?” 

Allura sighed, “It was cancelled. I figured you two were here.”

Lance piped up at Allura’s arrival. “Hey, princess.” 

Allura rolled her eyes. Lance had called her that the first time they’d met. They'd had a Thing. It didn’t last very long, they realized they liked hanging out, but their relationship wouldn’t work as a romantic one, since they had way too many problems in that kind of situation. They stayed friends, the nickname stuck, and now they were closer than ever. He still doesn’t know how he managed that. Allura was beautiful, she _actually_ looked like a princess. Secretly, Lance wondered if she actually was one. Allura was the most gorgeous girl he’d ever seen. And it wasn’t only looks, it was her soft accented voice, the way she moved elegantly and gracefully. Lance met her at their first dance they’d shared, and he was profoundly shocked to know she minored in it and majored in Politics. So, she was smart, talented, and beautiful. He had been very lucky to have met her, but now he felt more lucky to have her as a close friend, and not just as an ex he would uncomfortably only greet if the crossed paths.

“Lance. Are we still on for Saturday?” She turned to him, her hair pooling around her. 

“Obviously. Wouldn’t miss it for anything. Hunk, wanna join us? We’re watching the most gruesome scary movies we can find.” 

Hunk looked pained while he smiled. “No thanks.” 

Lance shrugged, and swatted Allura’s hand from grabbing more fries. He continued eating his sandwich, but noticing the uncomfortable stare Allura had on him. “Yes?” He said, raising his eyebrows. 

“So, I just saw Pidge an hour ago.” Lance nodded, while she folded her hands. “She told me Keith went back to see you yesterday? Alone?” 

Hunk snorted. “Yeah, and Lance told him to see him tonight.” 

Allura gaped, then smiled. “Oh my god, you did that?” 

Lance glared at Hunk, then at Allura. “No! Well, yes, kinda. But it’s just for his drawings! Nothing else!” 

But she wasn’t listening to him. “I have to tell Pidge. She didn’t know this!” 

While she tapped quickly at her phone, Lance gruffly said, “What did Pidge tell you?” He didn’t say _did Keith talk about me?_ because they didn’t need to know. Also, why did Lance care, anyway? But Allura knew him and saw right through him. 

“She didn’t mention anything that Keith said. Actually, he would barely talk to her. But I’m starting to guess that’s just normal Keith behavior.” She then put her phone to her mouth, in a moment of brilliant idea, “We should invite him over for Saturday!”

Hunk exclaimed, “That’s a great idea! I bet he loves horror films, he looks like he does.”

“Nope, we’re not doing that.” Lance said putting his hands on the table and standing. Allura took his arm and pulled him back down. 

“Fine, not Saturday. But we _have_ to get him to hang out with us someday. We’ll tell Pidge too, so it’s not only him.” 

“Yeah, we haven’t hung with Pidge in a long time. This could be fun!” Hunk agreed, staring closely at Lance.

Lance wanted to say no, but Allura clutched her hands in front of her and grinned, opening his eyes. “Please.” Fuck, her pleading puppy face. Even Coran couldn’t stand it. 

“Alright, but _I_ won’t ask him.”

Allura grinned. “I know.” 

Hunk sighed happily. “I’m so happy you can control him like that, Allura.”

“Thank you, it’s a special power.” 

“I hate both of you.” Now, Lance was finally done with his lunch, and even though he had his studio time until two hours later, he was itching to go. “I’m going back to the dorm to grab something, see you guys later.”

“Have fun with Keith!” Both Hunk and Allura called after him, and Lance feared them. 

 

Lance was walking to the studio, hand tightly holding his bag. He’d realized an hour before that he hadn’t told Keith when to go. So he had to swallow his pride and texted Pidge so she would tell him. This resulted in a thousand crying laughing emojis sent from her. This time unironically. But she got the message through. Pidge also told her that Keith would’ve gone there to camp out all afternoon if Lance hadn’t talked. Somehow, that made Lance more nervous. 

Lance saw him standing next to the doors to the studio. He was looking down at his phone, resting casually against the well, for some reason wearing a dark bandana around his neck. Did he know he looked ridiculous? Why was he trying so bad to look cool. Why. He wasn’t actually cool, with his horrible mood and patience, since Lance knew he loved picking fights during class debates. 

He stood in front of him, grinning when Keith didn’t notice him. He got closer, and said “Boo.” 

The way Keith jumped did wonders to his good humor, how he tensed up in fright, until he got an elbow to his stomach.

“Ow! What the fuck?” Lance heaved, moving away from him. 

Keith glared, but softened just a bit when he saw it was Lance. “What the hell Lance! What were you doing?” 

“Uh, do you know what a joke is?” Lance said, breathed, since _holy hell Keith was surprisingly strong_. “Jesus, you’re like karate kid.” 

Keith froze at that. “W-why karate kid?” 

“I don’t know, it’s the first thing that came into my mind! I can’t really think good jokes when I’m in pain from being attacked.” Lance said, pushing Keith away. 

Keith stood his ground, so he was only slightly bothered. “I didn’t attack you. It was self defense.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Whatever, mullet. But I’m going to remember that you almost killed me.” He started towards the inside of the building, with Keith on his toes. 

“You’re so dramatic. I barely hit you. I wasn’t even putting any force in it, you surprised me.”

Holy hell, now Lance stopped breathing because, if that was Keith surprised and with no force, what was him fully in control? Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it, Lance.

“So, you know how to fight?” Shit, great Lance. He hated the way he’d phrased it, like it wasn’t obvious. 

“Yeah.” Keith said quietly next to him, while they walked down the corridors. “I took classes for a bit.” 

“Cool.” Lance said. And then he noticed the awkward air around them, so he simply pushed open the doors to room 4b, a smaller dance studio in the corner of the building. Lance booked it sometimes to get some extra practice on his own, when he felt like he really needed it. 

“So, uh. I guess, I’ll just, practice. And you can, draw, or whatever. Just don’t get in my way or you’ll break the rhythm.” Lance nodded, like he’d just given out a perfectly said order. 

Keith just looked around, and chose a corner to sit in, taking out his sketchbook and a pencil, along with an eraser, which he set next to him. He also got some charcoal. Lance watched him while he did this. Almost mechanically, but with a comfortable feeling, used to doing it everyday but enjoying it anyway. He opened his sketchbook to a clean page, and ran his hand through the page, smoothing it out or cleaning it, Lance didn’t know, but he realized he’d been staring for too long when Keith looked up and caught him staring. 

Lance felt a beam of energy through his spine, so he turned around and connected his phone to the speakers, choosing his music and pressing play. 

He forgot to tell Keith he wasn’t doing ballet today, but Lance didn’t care, really. He’d said he wanted to draw Lance dancing. He didn’t specify what, so he practiced free style for a bit. His music was on random, so he simply warmed up with simple dancing to the different pop tunes he had on his phone. 

He lost himself in the music, in the familiar beats pulsing through his movements, just like Hunk had said; he ignored that fact that Keith was there and simply focused in his dancing. 

Eventually, the song for the routine he was putting at the moment came on. A song in Spanish he used to listen to a lot when he was smaller. He focused on the soft beats, the known melody, the sound of the guitar strumming along with the lyrics. It was a sad song, with a happy melody, and it reminded him a lot of his family. He loved this song, he loved the up beat dance he’d choreographed along with his instructor, and he felt in his zone. He forgot about everything and danced.

Once the song ended, he stood, breathing, his ears listening to a new song weaving around, but his brain was still on the last song. He sighed, and turned to put it again. He made the mistake of looking right at Keith, who had his face flushed as if _he_ had been the one dancing. Lance put his hand on his hip, motioning with his face at the sketchbook. 

“Can I see?”

Keith frowned, and seemed to gain his composure as he stood and walked up to Lance at the center of the room. 

Lance carefully took the sketchbook from his hands. Pressing down on curling corners, he stared at Keith’s sketches. 

They were amazing. And, just like the first time he’d seen them, Lance was speechless at how _good_ they looked, even though he’d been drawing fleeting, moving figures with mere seconds. They seemed like they were moving, like they had magic of their own, limbs flowing, bodies drawn in the exact way, but it was loose, not really defined. Lance could tell they weren’t completed, but he felt like he was at a museum looking at the artist’s sketches that were the bases of the masterpiece that was hung on the middle of the gallery. 

The first time Lance had seen Keith’s drawings; he was so mesmerized at them that he got angry. How dare he be _so good_ at this? He wanted to be angry at Keith forever for being talented. But Lance couldn’t do that. He loved art, any form of it, and he knew when it deserved awe. Keith had that talent. Lance recognized himself, even recognized some steps form his dancing. He saw his face perfectly drawn with emotion; even if it was drawn with some brushed lines and hurried shadows with the charcoals. Lance thought Keith’s drawings were beautiful. 

“I really like them.” Lance chocked, not knowing how to express what he was thinking. “They’re good.” He didn’t know what else to say. Because, they weren’t exactly friends, Lance believed they were rivals, but he didn’t feel like bringing that up at that moment. 

Keith nodded. “Thank you.” He looked even more uncomfortable. “You uh- you’re a very good dancer. 

Lance perked up. “Obviously, I’m the best one. You will never meet a better dancer that me. I am extraordinary.” He used a thumb to point at himself, and Keith snorted. 

“Yeah aright, if you say so.” 

Lance raised his eyebrows. “Oh I win easily? I can’t believe you’re getting weak, Kogane.” 

Keith looked in shock for a second, where Lance thought he’d crossed a line, since Keith _obviously_ did not know Lance’s last name. But Lance knew his, which was the result of obsessively checking classes’ lists for him, and comparing their results. Lance now knew why Hunk had called him a ‘stalker’ and ‘obsessed’ with Keith, and now he wanted to die. But, Keith pulled himself together, and smirked. 

“It’s more like when you tell a children they’re right.” He said, crossing his arms, and pitched his voice up. “Yes, sweetie, of course you’re the best dancer. Of course the moon is made out of cheese, you’re always right.” 

Lance laughed, and his pulse came back to normal. “Well then, yes Keith, you’re obviously so talented, these drawings are _great_.” He soaked his voice in sarcasm, and got another smirk from Keith. 

Keith took his sketchbook back, looking at the drawings he’d made today. There was a crease between his eyebrows, which Lance wanted to press back, but instead he saw how Keith frowned slightly. 

“But seriously.” He started, and patted Keith’s arm awkwardly. “They’re really good. You made me look like I’m some handsome professional dancer.” 

Keith rolled his eyes, stopped frowning, but the crease did not disappear. 

Now, Lance did not know much about art in the, painting, drawing, creating way. But he knew Keith was good. He had a way of capturing instances. But, even Lance could notice something was missing. 

“So, did you start drawing dancers because you thought we were pretty? Or…?” He asked tentatively. 

Keith closed his sketchbook forcibly. “Not really. I have these paintings I have to turn in for finals.” 

That really didn’t answer anything, but before Lance could push more, Keith grabbed his bag and pencils and went to the door. 

“Wait, you’re leaving already?” Lance asked, he had half an hour left. 

Keith nodded. “I have homework.” He sounded cutting, cold. “You have too, actually. Astrophysics.” 

“Oh right! Thanks, Keith!” Lance grinned, suddenly his brain kept repeating something like, _say something or you won’t talk again and you’ll never become friends_ , which, Lance didn’t want to be friends with him. He was weird, and very rude. But his brain kept prodding and screaming in his mind, so he started. “Hey, do you wanna-“ But the door slamming closed cut him off. 

“Great.” He muttered. Keith rudeness had blackened his mood, not even Carly Rae Jepsen singing in the background could save it. He’d tried being nice the mullet, but he still got pushed away. He should stop trying, eventually.

His music got interrupted for a second before continuing, which meant he’d gotten a text, so he checked it. Normally he would wait after he was done practicing, but he’d already been interrupted from his flow _anyway_. He saw that Pidge had sent him two short messages. 

**Gremlin (6:39)**  
i know you didn’t ask for his number

 **Gremlin (6:39)**  
here

And then he got a new message, and Lance gaped. 

**Gremlin (6:40)**  
_Shared contact_ : Keith

Maybe Lance could ask him to meet him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I got sick last week and couldn't write lol.
> 
> Originally i wasn't going to write on Lance's POV but. he owns me. I love writing him so much, and it would pain me to write this fic without seeing his point. But don't worry, we're still getting a lot of pining Keith.
> 
> The song Lance has the routine for is Caraluna by Bacilos. I made a playlist of songs in spanish for him, and this one was the first one i added. 
> 
> Also, I love the idea of allurance as exes that became best friends, a bit like, Chloe and James Van Der Beek in Don't trust the b in apartment 23.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! if you see some mistakes please tell me, english is not my first language.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theres a lot of dialogue and texting llol sorry

Keith groaned after closing the door. He’d gotten the itch to run away like, ten minutes before, but couldn’t stand to interrupt Lance when he was dancing. _Especially_ when he was dancing the way he was, like nothing else mattered in the world. Keith could clearly see the strokes in a canvas, hung in a museum, picturing Lance. Closed eyes, spread arms, hair plastered to his skull from the sweat, enjoying every moment of the music. He was art.

He’d seen the painting so clearly in his mind, it frightened him. It frightened him because Keith knew he would never be able to paint something like that. He would never be able to frame the way Lance looked, the feelings he radiated when he danced, when he was doing what he loved. He would never be able to paint that, and yet he wanted to. 

He shoved that to the back of his mind, though. He couldn’t go back to drawing Lance, not after realizing that he wanted to do a full-scale painting of him. Not after enjoying actually talking to him, because that meant spending time with him, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted that. 

(He did, though.)

Damn, he hated himself.

Especially while he walked away from the studios; God, He was such an asshole, no doubt Lance thought that of him. Cold air bit at his face like it was agreeing. 

Back at his dorm, his fingers were itching to paint _something_. So he started something simple, space, he enjoyed that. It wasn’t big, it was straightforward, and maybe he would be able to finish it. But the voice at the back oh his head repeatedly told him that he needed at least 5 completed pieces for _that class_ if he wanted to pass it. Black, purple, red. He avoided the blue. Too bright for him. He hated the painting suddenly, but resisted the urge to streak it with the purple paint he had in his hand. Instead, he focused those impulses into the actual painting, making the strokes more violent, forming an image. A battle in space, nice. His professor would _definitely_ appreciate that. 

He got to a point where he was fed up with it but it looked somewhat finished, so he let it rest. He had class tomorrow, he would take it then and work more on it.  
His phone pinged, which meant a text message, and he remembered his Astrophysics homework. He _did_ have to do it, he wasn’t lying to Lance. 

But he took his phone instead, whatever. Which showed a message from an unknown number. So, he opened it and gaped at it. 

**Unknown Number (7:12)**  
hey hey hey u ran out too fast!! Lol

That was Lance, right?

 **Unknown Number (7:12)**  
I’m lance btw 

Yeah.

He stared as the messages came in, but didn’t move a muscle. 

**Unknown Number (7:13)**  
so uh anyway

 **Unknown Number (7:13)**  
pidge gave me ur number if u wanted to kno

 **Unknown Number (7:13)**  
uhhhh I was going to tell u that

 **Unknown Number (7:14)**  
u left some pencils???? charcoals??? idk stuff

Fuck. 

His charcoals. Of course, he’d left them on the floor when he’d ran out, and he didn’t even notice. Was this the universe playing a horrible prank on him? Why would it force him back into the one boy he didn’t want to see again? Everything was conspiring against him. 

Keith didn’t answer him. He didn’t register his number. He put his phone on silent and threw it on his bed. Now, with much more zest, he started doing his Astrophysics homework. 

Keith hated himself. Why did he have so many issues when connecting with people? Why couldn’t he be a normal person, and just talk, hang out normally, without having to immediately get away from them before they could probe too much into him? Fine, he knew the answer, but he wasn’t in the mood of psychoanalyzing himself, so he disconnected everything and focused on doing his work. 

That’s what he did, generally. Stop thinking and focus on what you’re doing. Have patience with yourself. Patience yields focus. 

On that note, his computer started ringing. It would’ve been weird, but it was a Skype call from Shiro. Which was a funny coincidence, since his brother had taught him that train of thought. 

Well, honorary brother. Not actually related. 

He shoved his books away and answered the call. Shiro’s tired face smiled him in the screen, white streak falling on his face, stark scar on pale skin looking back at him. 

“Hey, thought you’d gone missing for a moment.”

“Sadly, I’m still here.” Keith said, softly. He missed Shiro. 

Shiro laughed, and leaned back on his chair. “You weren’t answering your phone. I tried texting you to let you know I was going to call, but no answer from you. A miracle you answered here.”

Keith looked at his bed for a split second. “Yeah I, had to do homework. I put my phone on mute.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “You never mute your phone, simply because I know the only people you text with are Pidge and me. And Pidge knows when to lay off her texting. What’s wrong?”

Keith rubbed his eyelids. Man, he really didn’t want to have a heart-to-heart with Shiro right now. “Nothing, really. I’m just tired.” 

“Alright.” Bless Shiro. He seemed to understand when he didn’t want to talk. “Just remember it’s bad to bottle things up.” 

“God, Shiro you sound like an old dad.” He smirked.

“Don’t forget to eat your vegetables.” 

Keith laughed, already feeling better. Shiro had helped him through his worst, growing up, this was nothing compared to that. 

“I actually have some good news, that’s why I called.” Shiro piped up, grinning excitedly at Keith. 

“Really? Did you find me solid proof that the government is controlling our minds?”

“I said good news.” 

“Isn’t the truth good news?” 

“Not if it means introducing the population into a panic wave.” Shiro grimaced. “Wait stop, don’t change topic.”

Keith laughed, that was always easy with Shiro. “What is it, then?”

“I was invited to give classes next semester.” Shiro said, and paused.

“Yeah?” Said Keith, distracted, because Shiro was invited to do that all the time. No one would let pass a recognized ex-pilot give a class about piloting logistics and it’s consequences after crisis. Shirogane Takashi was famed for knowing everything in detail about his field and also making people realize how dangerous it could be. He had been giving that course in a college the other side of the country where Keith was, he’d been there for over a year now, he’d gotten used to not having him around.

“In your college.” 

Keith stared at him, wide eyed. “Seriously?” 

Shire smiled brightly. “Yes!”

“That’s amazing.” He grinned, but then Keith remembered the good position Shiro had at his current college. “But wait, why did you accept to come all the way here?” 

Shiro must’ve noticed the worried ring in his voice, because he calmly explained. “Well, your school is one of the best in their fields. They offered me a slightly better wage, and obviously, cause you’re there.” 

Keith bit his lip, guilty, since he was basically dragging Shiro here. 

“You’re my little brother, Keith. When I heard the offer I immediately jumped at it.” 

“Is it really a better position?” 

“Yeah! And you know, they offered me such a better schedule. And, a residence in campus.”

“Wait seriously?”

“Seriously. This college doesn’t even give me something nearby.” Shiro shrugged. “It was an amazing offer.”

“I’m glad you’re coming here.” And Keith meant it. He missed his brother. 

“So, I’m coming there after this semester ends. We’ll be able to spend Christmas together.”

Now Keith could be able to look forward to that. Last year, they weren’t able to spend it together. They couldn’t afford tickets for neither of them. It wasn’t a good holiday. He smiled, relieved. “I’m glad about that.”

“Me too.” And there was a comfortable silence, which was broken eventually, by Shiro’s horrible prying. “So, how are you doing with your life sketches?”

Which was a horrible way to phrase _Hey what about Lance?_ but it was so Shiro. “Just ask what you really wanna know.” 

Shiro smirked. “I didn’t mention it and yet you jumped at that. Maybe I was actually invested in your work.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “I know you want to know the gossip first. I know you, Takashi.” 

At that, Shiro laughed, grabbing his left side, “Fine. Tell me about _Lance_.” He dragged the vowels in Lance’s name and it scraped Keith’s ears. 

“I sketched him today while he practiced some routines.” He showed him his sketchbook quickly, not even letting the camera focus. “But I think it’s the last time, I’m kinda done with drawing people, anyway.”

Shiro raised his eyebrow in a knowing look. “I know you, Keith.” He mocked. “You went to see him two times after Pidge took you. You’re not usually not that invested in someone.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing. I’m just surprised. But I’m happy. You should hang out with him more.”

Keith stared at him, with bared teeth. 

“I know social interaction is like the biggest torture you can imagine, but from what Pidge told me, he’s a cool guy, and it would be good for you to broaden your circle of friends.”

Keith remembered the messages sitting on his phone. “I have friends.”

“You have me and Pidge. And I don’t count, cause I’m basically your brother.” Shiro rubbed his temple. “One friend is not enough Keith, you need support around you.” 

Keith sighed. “Fine, whatever. I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Promise me you’ll try, Keith.” And now Shiro had whipped out that voice, the voice he used when Keith was being especially difficult, when he was worrying Shiro. And keith hated worrying Shiro, so he swallowed the uncomfortable feeling he had, and nodded. 

“I promise. I’ll try.” 

Shiro smiled tiredly. “Thank you. I have to go now. Don’t stay up too late today. I’ll see you soon!”

“Let me know when you’re arriving so I can pick you up.”

“In that motorcycle? No way, I would die.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “No, we wouldn’t be able to fit you baggage. I’ll ask Pidge if Matt can give us a ride.”

Shiro’s eyes lit up. “Aw yeah, that’d be cool! I haven’t seen Matt in _ages_!”

Keith grinned. “See you later.” 

“Night!” And the call was done. 

Keith felt better. Shiro had that kind of result on him. He stared at his half-finished space painting, and scowled, because he knew he could do _so_ much better than that. He knew that. There was a reason he’d gotten a scholarship from his portfolio. He knew he was good. 

Why couldn’t he paint? Why was this class taking a toll on him, when it was objectively one of the easiest ones?

He remembered his promise to Shiro, and stared at his phone, sighing. He gingerly picked it up, looking at the new messages. He saw the notifications that Shiro mentioned, but as he scrolled down he noticed more messages from Lance. 

**Unknown Number (7:17)**  
u prob want them back right

 **Unknown Number (7:21)**  
um asshole dont leave me on read

Keth groaned, wanting the floor to swallow him up. Slowly, he added Lance to his contacts, then typed the only answer he could think of. 

**Keith (7:51)**  
Don’t you know how to type?

There was an immediate response. 

**Lance (7:51)**  
r00d

 **Lance (7:52)**  
ure more assholey via text than irl

 **Keith (7:52)**  
That word doesn’t exist

 **Lance (7:52)**  
uh it totally does, its an adjective

 **Keith (7:53)**  
Proof  
**Lance (7:54)**  
wiktionary.org/wiki/assholey

 **Keith (7:55)**  
That’s not a good source

 **Lance (7:55)**  
it’s a wiki

 **Keith (7:55)**  
Wiki ≠ credible source

 **Lance (7:56)**  
lmao ur such a nerd

 **Lance (7:56)**  
i bet u were that annoying kid that corrected everyones grammar in facebook

 **Keith (7:57)**  
Projecting much?

 **Lance (7:57)**  
actually i was the cool kid that typed rlly cool nd made cool comments

 **Keith (7:57)**  
For some reason I highly doubt that

 **Lance (7:58)**  
ure just jealous 

**Keith (7:58)**  
Of you? Good joke

 **Lance (7:59)**  
alright that made me laugh 

**Lance (7:59)**  
but seriously. i love this convo but when should i give u ur charcoals 

**Keith (7:59)**  
Tomorrow at class, if you can

 **Lance (8:00)**  
sure, no prob

 **Keith (8:04)**  
Thanks, by the way. For getting them

 **Lance (8:04)**  
its ok, i figured they were expensive and/or needed them

 **Keith (8:05)**  
Can’t believe you can’t type anything correctly but you can write and/or correctly

 **Lance (8:05)**  
i live by my own rules 

**Keith (8:05)**  
Sure

 **Lance (8:06)**  
;-)

 

Keith kept thinking about his conversation with Lance the next day. He’d seen him during their shared Astrophysics class, where Lance had gave him his charcoals with a smile that was too bright and perky first thing in the morning. For a moment, Keith had thought Lance was going to sit next to him. He’d held his breath, saw the way Lance stared at the chair, but then he’d saluted him and sat in his usual seat, a couple places behind Keith. He tried to look unbothered. 

Now, he was back at the famed art class. It was something about free expression, or something like that, which meant that it was graded with actual pieces and not theory exams. Keith was good at exams. He was good at studying, focusing. When they forced him to make something, though, especially when he was in such an artistic slump, well, he couldn’t work. What was worse, this was the only class he had trouble with this semester. It was killing him. 

This slump was killing him. 

He hadn’t bothered taking his space painting to class. He knew it was garbage. Instead, he took a blank canvas, opened his sketchbook without thinking, and started painting. He wasn’t surprised when he saw he started painting Lance. 

It wasn’t really him, not yet. Keith didn’t have photographic memory, and without a reference he couldn’t get his similarity. But, his gestures were there, shaped in his canvas, being created. He stared at it for a moment before continuing. He pushed everything out of his mind and just, focused. Keith remembered the first time he’d seen Lance dance. How when he’d looked down at him, he felt like he was staring at an actual star, shining brightly, moving around elegantly, and owning the space around him. He knew stars were big exploding balls of gas. And Lance definitely exploded; he exploded when he danced, when it was simply he and the movements. He was able to tell that when he’d seen him dance yesterday. He exploded, he let out his talent, and everyone who was near was surrounded by it. Keith wondered, was being burned by a star as stunning as this?

“Now this is progress!” Keith was suddenly stunned out of his concentration by his professor, who’d walked next to him at some point, and was staring intensely at his work. 

“Yeah I’m uh, working on it.” Keith stared at the painting. It had a better form now, a recognizable body, with shadows and lights. It was the start of something, something Keith could almost see and touch, but it wasn’t there yet. 

“I like where it’s going. I would try to add other colors, maybe a complementary one, to balance it out, make it more harmonious.” 

Keith stared at the paint in his hands. “That could work, maybe.”

“You’re going strong! It has a good composition, and it’s compelling.” He laughed, and twirled his mustache. “But it’s missing something important.”

Keith winced. He knew it always was missing something. 

“This boy needs his soul.” Professor Smythe said, “Can you get your model to help you finish it?” 

In theory: yes. But in reality? It was the last thing Keith wanted to do. He knew he needed Lance to finish that painting. But he was scared. He was scared that he wouldn’t be able to give him justice, he wouldn’t be able to capture him, that he would itch to ruin the painting again. He couldn’t do that to him. 

“I’ll try to ask him.” Keith said, nervously. (He wasn’t planning on asking him) 

His professor nodded and smiled at Keith. “I’m excited! This is really good! It reminds me of this art show I went to once, before you were probably born, such an amazing artist. I wasn’t even planning on going; I found the gallery on a street I took a shortcut from! So crazy! I was sure I would get murdered, but it was one of the best artists I’ve seen. You have similar use of color and form. Really interesting, -“ 

Keith knew his professor would keep talking forever. Coran Smythe (in short, for the sake of brevity) was known in campus for being an incredible artist and never stopping his anecdotes. 

“Sorry, professor. But class is over and I have to clean up.” 

“Ah, that’s fine! Keith, I really do hope you can finish this. And the rest of the pieces, I hope to see them close.”

Keith nodded awkwardly, and fought the impulse of running away. 

Once out of class, he felt like he could breathe again. He’d enjoyed painting immensely. He’d felt that push of adrenaline and excitement once again, but it had been shadowed by the fact that he couldn’t get it correctly. His mind was a mess. He wanted to take a ride on Red for hours, with no goal in mind. Instead, he took a jog around campus. It didn’t have the same effect, but the pull of his joints and the pain after pushing himself and being out of breath felt good. He felt grounded again. 

While he walked back to his dorm, he sent some messages to Pidge, asking to meet up for dinner. When he was done, he saw that he’d received new messages from _another_ unknown number. How that happened, he didn’t know. Keith didn’t talk to a lot of people. 

**Unknown Number (4:43)**  
Hey Keith! It’s Allura, I’m sorry if I’m overstepping. Pidge gave me your number. 

Did Pidge just stick his number in the bulletin board? 

**Keith (4:45)**  
Hey, Allura. It’s okay

 **Allura (4:46)**  
Great! Lance, Hunk, and I are going Ice Skating next week. I was wondering if you wanted to come. I already asked Pidge, she hasn’t answered, but she’s probably coming too. 

Now that was a twist Keith wasn’t expecting. Even less from Allura. Was he really being asked to go with them? Did Shiro have magic powers, that meant that whatever he would make Keith promise would be presented to him in a plate?

Damn, he’d promised Shiro. He couldn’t flake out. 

**Keith (4:48)**  
Sure

 **Allura (4:49)**  
Nice c: I’ll tell Pidge to tell you the details. See you!

Keith felt like in a lucid dream. 

**Allura (4:50)**  
Wait, I had a better idea.

 **Allura has added you to the group chat** _ice ice baby_  
**Allura has added Unknown Number, Pidge, and Lance ******

Keith was definitely in a lucid dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! i took a long time to update, sorry. Life sometimes, sucks.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and i know it's very heavy on texting, but i hope the format it's in is easy to read. 
> 
> What'd u think of Keith's vlog huh, so good. I love him a lot. (Also i hope i'm not writing him too sad or angsty. I know it can get tiring, hopefully i can add some more of his cheery snark next time)
> 
> Also i want to write more of the rest of the gang, so expect more interactions between all of them. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think. c:


	5. Chapter 5

Walking into an ice rink to spend time with a number of people he wasn’t familiar with was definitely chilling. Not only physically. Pidge had arrived early, and when he got there he saw that everyone was also already there, which was definitely not good for Keith’s nerves.

He almost flaked out, stress on almost, because as soon as he was about to hit send on the message that excused him for whatever reason he was able to pull out of his ass, Lance started sending a string of excited messages about the afternoon, how he wasn’t even mas Allura changed their scary movie marathon for that since he loved ice skating and good company. And well, Keith didn’t want to ruin it. Especially since being included in that group chat had made, surprisingly, his days brighter. It was something about being included in jokes and quick retorts that were perfect for his dry sarcasm. Suddenly, his phone would not stop ringing, constantly being flooded with messages. It always brought jolts out of him since he wasn’t used to it at all. 

It was a good change. 

Yet, he still felt awkward around them. Once he arrived and he said hi to everyone, he stood to the side, tense as a plank of wood. Keith kept staring at Lance, waiting for him to look him back, but he was always talking to someone whenever he looked. He was definitely bummed, but another side of him relaxed about this weird distance. He had in the back of his mind a voice that reminded him of his painting, waiting for him back at the studio, missing chunks of details of the face, which was standing a few feet away from him. He could easily ask him to model for him, in a few seconds it would be over and there could only be two possible results. Usually, Keith wouldn’t hesitate. He’d go instantly to what he wanted, without thinking, but this time he felt strangely nervous. Afraid of the way Lance would react. 

He was shocked out of his thoughts by Hunk, who put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey dude, you alright?” He was tall, and big broad shoulders, but he had the kindest face Keith had ever seen on a person. 

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m- distracted.” He answered, stepping away from him.

“Are you afraid of ice skating? Because, I totally get you- you can slip so easily and it’s so cold! And it hurts! Then everyone laughs, and you are left numb and sad.” He said, twirling his fingers and walking with Keith behind everyone else to pick up the skates. 

“Uh no. I actually skated a bit when I was younger.” Keith answered, feeling awkward. He hadn’t skated in so long, though. It was basically another life. 

Hunk smiled at him and Keith feels instantly better. “Aw man, you’re better than me, then. That’s okay, just don’t laugh when I fall.”

Keith cracked a smile and looked to the right. He catches Lance’s eye, who looks wide eyed, and then grins at him. Keith looks down, but he feels an uncomfortable itch on his neck. Blue eyes staring at him. 

Eventually, they all get skates, and turn into the rink. Allura and Lance, as expected from dancers, are incredible. They move with the same ease they have in the dance studios. Allura is all twirls, soft colors, and bright eyes. She has a melodic laugh that spreads around the place. 

“Princess, I bet you can’t out-twirl me!” Lance called out, crossing in front of Keith, and resting his arm in Hunk, who looks unbalanced for a panicked second. 

Allura laughed, “Please, Lance, I won an ice skating competition when I was 13.” 

“Of course you did.” Lance responded, “But I swear I can do more- not do them better.” 

“Lance, everyone knows Allura is better than everyone in anything.” Pidge piped, skating softly around them. She takes short but steady glides, enough to keep her balanced, but not enough to flourish it. 

Hunk laughed, loudly and warmly, “That’s true. Besides, you’re not _that_ good.”

“I take full offence on that!” Lance cried.

Hunk takes a mischievous look towards Keith, grinning like a shark. Keith feels something bad coming and opens his mouth to stop Hunk on doing whatever he’s about to do when-

“I bet even _Keith_ is better than you.” Keith frowned and looks at Lance, who looks scandalized and personally attacked, “He took _classes_.”

“Oh no way, mullet!” Lance skates towards him. Keith considers backing down for a moment but instead he stands his ground and crosses his arms. “I’m definitely better at this than you. You lack the grace.” 

Keith smirks, every nerve in his body flaring up. “Try to keep up.” He tears his sight from those bright blue eyes and begins skating. 

He takes flight, makes his muscles remember movements from years ago, hopes he still remembers them, and when he’s ready to jump, he turns around in time to stare at Lance one more time. He feels on fire. 

Lance stares at him while he twirls in the air, and when he drops down, he miscalculates and almost slips. He avoids embarrassment by skating immediately away, and saves it. He turns back to everyone looks around their grins, and then at Lance’s hooded eyes. He opens his arms, and looks directly at that beautiful face. 

“So?” 

Lance bites his lip, and starts skating, with definitely more practice than what Keith has, but he manages to do an impressive trick that he does not know the name of. His form is almost flawless- the way his legs and arms extend remind Keith of ballet and Lance’s movements in those practices. He realizes that he has that elegance following him everywhere. Even here, with the ice surrounding them, the cold biting Keith’s ears and nose and face, he feels warm looking at him. He itches to extend his hand and take those feelings home. 

Lance lands, without mishaps, he raises an eyebrow towards him and mimics his own movements earlier, opening his arms and smiling brightly. Keith feels _something_ inside of him. 

He probably stays planted in place to long, because Hunk, Allura and Pidge burst out laughing. They skate towards them. 

“Why are you like this?” Pidge asked, groaning, but with a smile hiding behind. “I can’t believe introducing you to each other was going to be this horrible.” 

“What are you talking about? I just gave you the best show ever, this was a treat for your eyes.” Lance said, grabbing Pidge and ruffling her hair. She squirms away and mimics puking her guts out. 

“It wasn’t that bad.” Keith said. Lance stared back at him. “I mean, my part at least.” He feels his neck warm again. 

Hunk snorts and puts his palm up. Keith stares at it. “Keith, c’mon. Don’t leave me hanging.” Hunk pleads and Keith snaps put of it and high-fives him, apologizing to him. 

“Actually you were both pretty bad.” Said Allura, as she finished braiding her hair. “Sorry Keith, but it’s true.” 

Lance splutters, but Keith just raises his shoulder. “I haven’t practiced in almost ten years, I knew it would be bad.” He smirked, and points to Lance “Still better than you.” 

“Is this a dare?” Lance said, skating towards him. 

“Ugh, here we go again.” Pidge said, skating away. 

“Not really a dare when there’s no real competition.” Keith answered, cocking his head to the side.

“Ooh Lance, sorry buddy, but he got you in a corner.” Hunk said.

“Bro! Not true, I can win this.” He squares his shoulders in a way that makes Keith want to laugh. “I’m better.”

“Actually, Allura’s better.” Hunk said, pointing at her. 

She was actually skating in circles, gaining speed, obviously preparing for a jump. Before she does that though, she begins twirling quickly, leg sticking out. She jumps, and then lands with more twirls. When she’s done, even bystanders clap at her, believing her to be a professional ice skater. She finished with elegant arms spread upwards, sticking her tongue out at both of them. 

“She is.” Both Lance and Keith said, reluctantly. 

 

When Keith was back at his dorm after that Saturday, he’d felt, genuinely happy, after what seemed, a very long time. His head felt like it was swimming, his face hurt from all the movements it had made that it wasn’t used to anymore (smiles). His fingers felt tingly, in a good way. He felt calm. 

He was even humming to himself, as he walked in and closed his door, he laid down in his bed and unlocked his phone. Seeing new texts already. 

**Group Chat: ice ice baby**

**Pidge has changed the name to: allura is better at anything**

**Lance: (6:59)**  
hey dont rub it in more

**Hunk: (7:00)**  
Don’t deny the word of our prophet about god

Keith laughed, because, he really had enjoyed his time with them. Feeling his heart pulse, he wrote a text and sent it, laying his phone down for the moment. 

**Keith: (7:02)**  
I had a lot of fun today. Thank you for including me. 

He went into his desk, and opened his laptop. He checked in with Shiro, told him about his day in a few short sentences. He knew he had a lecture, but he wrote it out and sent it anyway. Still feeling lightheaded from the social interaction, he opened his sketchbook, into a new page. He didn’t wait to grab his pencils and get to work. 

First, he drew Pidge. He started with her glasses, unnecessary, but she still wore them anyway, because it reminded her of Matt while he was away. Keith drew her working down on something, a piece of equipment, with decided fingers (he paid close attention to them). Then he did some sketches of expressions she usually had on her face. Sneers, sly smiles, wide focused eyes when she was on a work bender, grins and laughter he sometimes brought out of her when they were discussing ridiculous theories. They had a competition for whoever could find the most stupid, reaching theories about anything, and the one who won had to buy the other anything they wanted (that was in their budget). He took, cautiously, a green pen and worked on some highlights. 

Turning the page, he worked on Hunk. He didn’t know much of him yet, but he focused on getting his warm open face right. He had to work a lot on memory, and some pictures they’d sent during the week. But he managed to get those soft eyes and crooked smile, with open hand expressions he always seemed to make. Then, the next page over, he sketched Allura. Her long limbs, curling long hair, brilliant eyes. He definitely made her seem like she was shining, bright like a light. Joking, kind, face that seemed like you could trust her with your life. Keith didn’t know much about her, but she had an energy and air of openness and intelligence that pulled people in. He put the yellow he used in Hunk and took a soft pink color, adding shadows to her white hair. 

He knew who he was itching to draw next, but he stopped himself for a second, looking at some pictures of him. He stared at Lance’s soft face, it looked like he took care of it, and Keith wouldn’t put it past him. His brown hair curled at the top, sometimes he had a cowlick that Keith liked and always added to his sketches of him. This time, he made sketches and sketches of his smile, the challenging look he gave him at the rink, the fire he felt whenever he spoke to him and the adrenaline he felt. Keith used hard and bold strokes, adding shadows and edge and style, he picked up a blue pen and added in his bright eyes, strikingly looking back at him. 

He wasn’t thinking when he grabbed his phone and called Lance. 

“Hello?” He answered after the first ring, sounding definitely confused but not _angry_ so Keith took a leap.

“I have this class where I have to turn in five pieces for finals, but I can’t seem to finish any of them. After I started watching you dance I sketched you a lot and started painting you. But I need to see you to finish it.” He said, in one breath. 

“Alright?” Lance asked, confused. 

“I need you, I mean, can you- could you- would you pose for me?” 

The line was silent for a few seconds, and Keith hated himself then more than anything. 

“Sure. I’d love to actually. Can’t believe I’m your _muse_.” He was back, laughing and killing Keith’s nerves. 

“Don’t get cocky, it’s just one painting.” Keith taunts back breating out. 

“Didn’t you say you needed five?” 

“I have other ideas for them.” 

“Hah, okay. I’ll do the one painting. But I’m not doing nude yet.” Lance teased, laughing behind the phone.

“I wasn’t counting on that anyway.” Keith smirks, shoving _that_ image away. 

 

Keith pressed his fingers into his temple, and closed his eyes. It was Wednesday; he was back at the class, working on his painting. He had brought his sketches from Saturday evening. He had started on Pidge using only a green monochrome, focusing on shadows and lights and movement on her fingers and her work and the curve of her spine as she looked down on her desk. He didn’t really focus on her face, taking all the directions into her hands and its details, using chartreuse and white for the brightest parts, dark moss green for the rest. He gave it the feeling of a working station in the early hours of the morning, a sleepless night filled with intense production. 

He reached a point where he could say he finished it. A feeling burst in his stomach that made him almost want to puke. His professor was happier than him, he was very excited about progress finally happening, and took it away from him to avoid Keith dumping black paint on it. Keith was sure he wanted to work on it more, but he knew that it would be better if he did later. 

Instead, he looked at his sketches of Lance and at the unfinished canvas. He was going to meet him Friday, when the art studio was empty and professor Coran had let him use it for a couple of hours. And Keith realized he wasn’t ready for any of it. But, he knew he couldn’t keep running away from Lance. Especially after looking at his drawings of him, staring at them, at the way he had captured specific looks and expressions only Lance did. Like that eyebrow rise with a half smirk, or his wide excited eyes, and the tip of the tongue that he showed whenever he got too excited. He’d spent the last few days with his new found group of friends (did they consider him that? He hoped so). And most of it staring at Lance and the way he talked and smiled and used his hands and dance. He went to his practices whenever he had free time, and sketched him relentlessly. 

Tis told him nothing at all, until Shiro pointed out how he always mentioned Lance and then Keith realized he thought about him constantly and then he came to the conclusion that he liked him and he was inexplicably drawn to him and he couldn’t stop this in any way. He had to paint him, but it terrorized him to see him in the open, to capture his soul, because if he could see him clearly in a canvas, then Lance would see through him and realize everything that Keith was feeling. And he did not want that. 

Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry about the long wait, school kicked my ass. 
> 
> But! I'm moving forward, and I hope the pacing isn't weird lol idk it's my first fic and im writing and planning as I go.
> 
> Thank sm for reading! 
> 
> Again, i'm over here in tumblr if you wanna chat:  
> http://drpamelaisely.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

Lance was whistling. He basically hopped on the sidewalk, his backpack on one shoulder, music blasting in his ears. He was happy. The last Friday before finals, and he found that he wasn’t as stressed as he thought he would be. (He knew this would change next week, but hey, let a guy live) Lately, he’d been very relaxed and cheery. He wouldn’t give it in to any specifically reason, though. There were too many: class had been going great, he was nailing his dance routines, the ballet presentation would come soon, and he had a really great burger that day. Also, he was going to model for Keith. Now, that didn’t really mean anything anyway, but it felt nice to think he was going to be painted. 

He reached the art studios, a large, blocky building that had a lot of bright posters and signs hung around the walls. He followed Keith’s detailed directions, since he’d said he would be there earlier setting up and couldn’t meet him at the door. 

He reached the door of the studio, where he could hear music coming out of it, and his stomach suddenly warmed up, but not in a bad way. He opened the door, and saw Keith, his hair up in a messy, small ponytail, hands holding a large paintbrush, stroking pink paint. His hands were stained with a lot of colors, most of them dry, but the pink was still fresh, since he pushed his bangs back and splashed them with the bright color. Lance laughed, and Keith turned to look at him, grinning. His whole body was burning up now. 

“Hey.” Keith said, eyes soft, nervous. 

“Hey you.” Lance responded, numbly. He was suddenly feeling nervous. 

“Thank you for doing this for me. Believe it or not,” Keith stopped, sighed. “It was actually hard for me to ask you.” 

“Really? Why?” 

“I guess I don’t like asking for help.” Keith said, sitting on the table. 

“I wouldn’t have guessed it.” Lance said, smirking.

Keith smiled. “Stand over there.” 

“Wow, not gonna hang out, just straight to the point. Alright.” Lance laughed, walking over where Keith pointed. 

“We’ll hang out when we’re done.” 

“You’re probably the type of person to say that you’ll sleep when you die.”

“Nah, that’s Pidge.” Keith said, standing behind the canvas. He picked it up, put it in a nearby table, and grabbed another one. 

“Damn, you’re right.” Lance was going to say something else, but he took the momentary silence to look around. Around the tables, there were a lot of paintings, some hanged, some drying out, as well as a lot of cabinets. Some of them were open, and had paints of different colors and types, too many for Lance to recognize, as well as brushes, tools, blank canvases, anything you would expect from a typical art studio. It was Lance’s first time there, but the place seemed warm and welcoming. Maybe it was only because Keith was there. 

“What do you want me to do?” 

Keith looked at his sketchbook for a moment, then at his canvas, and finally at Lance. He swallowed and Lance followed the movement. “There’s this position you would always make. Um, low arms, with one leg? I’ll just show you.” He picked up his sketchbook and walked over to Lance.

The sketches were very good, as always. Lance always marveled at the way simple lines could do so much in a blank space. Again, he recognized himself, his hair and features done with soft strokes- the focus was on the pose. He recognized it immediately (it was actually one of his favorites, it made his legs look really good).

“Yeah! Low second arabesque.” Lance smiled, licking his lips. “It’s quite easy. Where do you want me to be facing to?” He knew Keith would want to paint him dancing, so he’d changed into his tights. 

“Towards that window.” Keith stepped back, rubbing his arm. Lance stretched for a bit, though he’d done it earlier already. He curved his back and extended his arms, facing downwards, he matched his left leg to them, holding it out.  
“Hold on.” Keith said. He got closer to Lance, frowning in concentration, and grabbed his shoulders. Lance could feel his breaths on his neck, as Keith softly turned him to the right. His shirt was sleeveless, and he could feel his skin burning where Keith’s fingertips rested. There was a beat, after Keith had found the perfect position, where he didn’t let go. Lance looked at him, and their eyes found each other. He looked away instantly, like he’d touched an electric fence, and bit the inside of his cheek. Keith cleared his throat and stepped back. He stared at Lance a bit more, in silence, and then he nodded and walked back to the canvas. 

“You look great.” He said, and dipped his brush in muted blue paint. 

Lance continued staring at the window, at the tree behind it that kept moving with the wind. He synced his breathing to the sway of the branches. The leaves had fallen a long time ago, autumn very well in. He concentrating on keeping the position, not tensing his shoulders, and ignoring the blaze he felt from Keith’s deep stare. He _knew_ Keith would be staring at all of him for his painting, and he thought he was ready, but at that moment he felt naked, like Keith was shooting arrows at him. He felt his limbs itching to move. 

“If you need to rest, please tell me. I was going to tell you to take a break, anyway. It has been a long time.” Keith suddenly said. He walked around to pick up other brushes.  
Lance relaxed. He rolled his shoulders and perched himself on one of the empty tables. Though he made sure it was dry first. 

“Can I see your progress?” Lance asked, drumming his fingers and moving his legs. 

“No.” Keith said. “Sorry. But you can see the other ones.” He pointed at some canvases placed a couple of tables away. He was still busy picking up material, so Lance walked over. 

It really was something else. He was used to the pencil and charcoal sketches, so much that somehow he thought it was all Keith could do. He was wrong. The paintings were incredible. The first one he recognized it quickly. It was Pidge. Green strokes formed her hair, her nose, her hands working, seated at a table. It felt like concentration was seeping out of the figure, strong, wild strokes bringing it together while delicate, soft lines defined everything out. It was gorgeous. He looked over at the other, one soft pink, while the other muted yellow. Both of them weren’t finished, but he could begin to see figures coming together. One of them was full body, while the other, like Pidge’s, was seen on a closer frame. Somehow, he knew what the paintings were about. 

“Allura and Hunk?” He asked grinning fondly. 

Keith looked alarmed. “Yeah. Do you think they’ll be mad I’m painting them?” 

Lance yelped. “What! No way, they’ll be so flattered. I bet Hunk will cry when he finds out.” He stroked the edge of the canvas. “They’ll like it so much.”

Keith smiled quietly, turning away, busy again. 

“Anyway, you said you needed five. What’s the last one?”

“I haven’t started it yet. It’s gonna be of my brother.” Keith said, walking back to his place of work with a handful of paints. 

“You have a brother?” Lance jumped into the floor. “That’s amazing! I have one too, and a sister. They’re older though.” 

“He’s older as well. He uh- is not my biological brother. But I basically grew up with him, so.” Keith shrugged.

“He’s still your brother, though. That’s incredible. I would love to meet him someday!” Lance stopped at that because his face felt warm for some reason. 

But, Keith looked shaken as well, and he only nodded. Then pointed at the painting, which was a cue for Lance to get back into his position. 

After some moments staring at the tree again, where he saw a bird had his nest, and was flying in and out, Keith spoke again. Voice firm, direct. 

“Could you turn you face towards me?”

Lance did, getting a good sight of Keith’s face. The canvas was placed in a way that let the whole of his face in the open. Messy, painted bangs were mostly pushed back, eyebrows knitted together. Sometimes Keith would look up, and stare right into Lance’s eyes. He, in turn, could’ve stared at some other point around Keith’s face, but he looked back into his dark eyes. 

That instant was eternal. It felt like they were in a Polaroid picture, stuck in the loop. Break, talking about each other, their family’s (more of that on Lance’s side), their friends, the best bad movies. Then back to posing. Staring back at Keith, searching him with his eyes, saving every detail of his face he could. The discussed music, Lance connected his phone instead of Keith’s to the studio’s speakers, and he showed him the songs he liked, the songs he danced to, the songs that made his chest hurt. He even showed him a short routine at one point. Confined, since the space wasn’t very big. He felt himself let go but also felt his chest tight the whole time. Every time Keith touched him to move him an inch or so, or to turn his face to the correct light, Lance felt his breath hitch. 

At some point, the sun was setting, but Lance wasn’t tired. He felt enough energy to run a whole show. Every moment felt electric. 

Keith sighed, bit his lip. Slowly, he smiled. “I’m done.” Lance felt, at that moment, that the world stopped. 

“You are?” He said, his voice sounded funny to his own ears. 

Keith stared at him, with that open face, tinted cheeks. Lance had noticed, during the weeks he’d gotten to know him better, the way Keith expressed his feelings in the face and not with his voice. His soul was open to him at that moment. 

“Thank you for posing for me.” His eyes were gentle, honest. 

“Can I see?” 

“Keith shook his head. “Not until they’re all done.” 

Lance smirked, and grabbed his sweatshirt. He put it on, ruffling his hair. Then, from his bag, he grabbed his pants and put them over his tights. He wouldn’t bother changing them. Keith had walked over while he dressed. 

“You have paint all over your hair.” For some reason, Lance pushed back some of his streaked hair, feeling softly around the strands. They were close. Close enough to feel warmth on his face. Keith looked at his lips, then back up at him. Lance didn’t know what he was doing. His head felt stuffed with cotton. He then too looked down, and then they both started moving. He could almost feel Keith’s lips, when they heard a loud slamming door. 

They jumped back. Keith looked like a deer caught in headlights. Lance felt like he was exploding in pain. 

“I’m looking forward to see your paintings.” He said, because he couldn’t figure anything better than _hey, we almost kissed! Weird, right?_ so he nodded. Keith nodded awkwardly back. “See you.” 

Lance turned away, before he walked out, though, Keith called out: “I’ll talk to you later.” 

Lance stopped, looked back at Keith, his arms trembling at his sides. “Sure.” He said, and then got out of the suffocating heat. 

 

He was pacing. His phone ringed. He picked it up and saw Hunk’s message. 

**Hunkules (8:26)**  
How was your date?

**Lancey lance (8:26)**  
wasnt a date

He texted back and forth with Hunk trying to calm his nerves. He had a coil knot in his stomach, he was being weighted down and it was puncturing him from the inside. 

**Hunkules (8:32)**  
Are you okay?

No, not at all, Hunk. But Lance wasn’t going to tell him that.

**Lancey lance (8:33)**  
just tired

His phone dinged. He saw that Keith had sent him a message. Lance couldn’t read it, because his hand swiped it away in a second. He muted his phone, threw it across the bed, and sat down at his desk. 

He was sinking down, confused, and scared. His astrophysics homework reminded Lance of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! I'm almost done with the fic and have it all planned out. I'm really excited to finish it since woah it's the first chaptered one ive actually completed.
> 
> If you're wondering what pose exactly Lance was making, it's [here](http://vinnieprisbrey.blogspot.mx/2014/07/picture-perfect-classical-ballet-pose.html) The "Low 2nd Arabesque" one. Shout out to hayden for choosing it and having excellent taste. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hoped you liked the chapter! Please let me know what u think.


	7. Chapter 7

Keith felt the cold air bite at his face as he drove down the rode in his bike. It was Wednesday. He’d spent the days locked in his room studying for finals and finishing some projects. Not that he needed to go outside, anyway. Not with Lance avoiding him. (And, okay, Keith avoided him back, but he had a reason to.) Lance had just. Gone. After the painting session in Friday, and that, weird, electric moment between them, there had been radio silence. 

No answer to his texts. So Keith, ignored it. Ignored the tightness in his chest at the feeling of having screwed up everything up. He knew it was a bad idea. All of it. Going to the dance studio, sketching Lance, joining the group, _painting_ Lance. Then. _That._ His fingers numbed when he thought of him, of having Lance’s face close to him enough to drill every single detail into his mind. Which he did, and was reminded of, constantly. Every time he closed his eyes, Keith pictured Lance, laughing, sitting relaxed and chatting with him, holding the pose and staring back at him. Then, the wide, terrified eyes, his back as he walked away, the emptiness of silence when he was alone in the studio. 

To think that Lance would be that disgusted of the mere thought of Keith kissing him destroyed him. Like a stab wound directly to his chest. 

He was sad. But also angry. At himself, mainly. For letting it happen again. For letting someone sneak up so close to him and allowing it, and then being left alone and having to deal with the consequences alone _painting again._ His throat ached. His hands were numb. He was livid at the fucking way life treated him.

He knew he would have to deal with it eventually. He had the paintings to finish and to give in. And he wasn’t sure, but Professor Coran had mentioned a Gallery of their work at the beginning of the semester, and if it was true, Keith would rather die than have his painting of Lance hung up so everyone could pity his sad life. 

He took an extra lap of the street surrounding the art building. (Well, he took more, but who was counting?) He’d planned to meet Hunk and Allura that day to finish their paintings, with a live reference to keep the details alive. He hadn’t needed one with Pidge, since he saw her almost every day. But he was not ready to talk to them, or any person in general, for a very long time. He drove until his face was numb, until he placed walls around himself in order to look slightly human. Then, he walked in. 

Surprisingly, they were already in the studio, talking to Professor Coran. After only a few minutes, he found out that Allura was his niece, and he couldn’t believe how incredibly small the world was. 

He stayed around, doing his own work on his desk, while Keith dealt with Allura and Hunk.

Hunk had a mysterious concerned frown between his eyebrows, and Keith decided not to ask him anything about it. 

“Thank you for doing this. I wasn’t sure you’d like me painting you without letting you know.” He said, awkward, stiff, a hand in his neck. 

“It’s quite alright! Very exciting, actually, I’ve only been painted once, with my father, by Coran.” She shivered. “It wasn’t the smoothest of operation.” 

Coran looked proud anyways. 

“Yeah Keith! I almost cried when Lance told me.” Hunk said, grinning, but he stiffened after it for a second. 

Keith ignored it. Ignored the horrible whiplash it had on his body, and forced a smile out. “Hunk, could you go first?”

“Sure, man.” He wiggled his hands. “What should I do? I’m so nervous. I’ve never done this.” 

“Just sit down right there and look natural, I guess?” 

“You’re not very good at instructions, are you?” Hunk said, grinning but sitting down anyway. Keith shrugged, and hoped it wouldn’t be too weird. 

And then he just painted. He turned off his brain and concentrated on getting the light correctly. On getting the warmth that Hunk gave off in waves into the canvas. He spent minutes getting thin white highlights on his hair, his face, the corner of his eyes. He didn’t feel awkward. He never did when he painted. Even if multiple people were staring at him. It still was very different from Friday. But, before he could go into that line of thinking, Allura walked up next to him, apparently bored of her books. She had been studying for the better half of the hour. 

She gasped when she saw the painting, smiling brightly. “This is amazing, Keith.”

“Thanks.” 

“Why don’t you show us your paintings more often?”

“I don’t really paint.” Keith said, awkward.

“He never finishes anything!” Coran yelled, all the way back at his desk. 

Allura put a hand on his shoulder. “I get it. For a long time, I would shut myself and practice routines again and again until I had them perfectly. I didn’t even show my instructors. Eventually, I realized that I couldn’t ever improve or get something right if I used only myself as my only critic.” 

Keith didn’t know what to say. He smiled at her, hoping he didn’t look too pained, hoping he transmitted some sort of gratitude to her. 

Altura kept chatting away, half at him and half at Coran and Hunk. She filled the spaces differently, in a soft, charming way. Like she knew exactly the recipe for a pleasant afternoon. Eventually, he was done painting Hunk and it was Allura’s turn. 

He didn’t ask her to do a specific ballet position. When he was sketching their classes, Keith marveled at the way Allura’s long limbs looked really elegant even while she was just stretching. He asked her to choose her favorite sketch, and to make that pose. She grinned excitedly when she was eyeing the sketchbook, with Hunk at her side. Still, Keith noticed how they looked at each other, and then at him, at moments were they looked worried. But Keith pushed that back, and changed the canvases. 

“Do you want me to sit on the table?” She asked, leaving the sketchbook down and stretching her arms.

“That would help, actually.” 

She nodded and with one easy jump scaled the table and sat on it. Meanwhile, Keith kept fussing with the paintings. When he placed Hunk’s portrait down to dry, he basically threw himself into the table. 

“Keith, this is so incredible. Wow. I didn’t know you were so good.” He placed his hands loudly on the table, basically making everyone jump. “I mean, I figured, because everyone always talk about how great you are but I had to see it with my own eyes, and man, am I impressed.” 

Not used to so much appreciation in such a short amount of time, Keith found himself unaware of what to do, and very much uncomfortable. “Uh, thank you?” 

“No, thank _you_.” Hunk said. Keith was sure there were tears in his eyes. But he couldn’t actually see, because he was already painting Allura, keeping his stare concentrated on her. “Can I keep this? After Coran grades it and gives you full marks?” 

Keith opened his mouth to answer something he didn’t know, but Professor Coran beat him to it. “You can’t! The painting has a show to go to.” He grinned.

That was the confirmation Keith did (not) need. 

“Do I have to show mine?” He grunted, and he hoped it was too low for any of them to hear. 

“Isn’t that like half his grade?” Allura said, because, se was halfway Keith and Coran and could hear both. 

“Yes! No missing out. It is very important you show five paintings.” 

Keith groaned. Mixing out the colors and creating a muted enough base to do the basic figure. Instead of the focus on the face, like he did with Hunk, Keith worked to bring definition to the silhouette, trying to make it very defined and easy to recognize. That’s what he mainly worked on, at the beginning, getting limbs and lines correctly, creating an atmosphere first. It was like working from the outside, and he was slowly going in. It was something he knew, and it distracted him, until he looked down into his sketches to imitate the movement he captured by drawing during class, and where next to Allura were all the drawings he made of Lance. Full body sketches, where by just seeing an inch of his back he knew it was him, because of that open curve. Because of that hair, those legs, those extended long fingers. And he felt that weird thing in his chest he’d been feeling the last five days, like something sharp was carving into his body, slowly. Just like the rest of the days, he swallowed the feeling. He sent it into the back of his mind, locked it up, locked _anything_ that reminded him of Lance. Then, he relaxed the grip on his brush, because he knew from experience that he could brake certain types of charcoal and pencil, and didn’t want to test it with Professor Coran’s (nice) wooden brushes. His throat was dry. 

He told Allura to take a break because he almost drank his dirty paint water. 

She relaxed, stayed perched up on the table, legs dangling freely. Hunk was opposite of her, distracting himself with a loose sheet of paper he had found and some stray paint Keith had forgotten about. 

Everyone was silent, even Professor Coran seemed solely focused on endless paperwork he had in front of him. Even the air was dry. 

Altura and Hunk looked at each other again, something unspoken going between them. So, Keith turned his back on them and started moving stuff around his area of work. He took a tub of paint, twirled it, looked at the label, and placed it down on the other side of the table. 

“So Keith,” Allura said, and suddenly her voice was not sweet anymore, without the air it just grated on Keith’s ears, screamed at him, pointed at him. “How did your session with Lance go on Friday?” 

The feeling in his chest came back like a fucking gunshot, his hands tightening on the paint he was holding, white hot fury suddenly taking over his sight. He banged the paint down. “It was okay.” 

“Sorry to point it out, but that reaction was not ‘okay’ at all.” Hunk’s voice piped in. 

“I don’t know.” Keith said, shrugging awkwardly. “I finished the painting, that’s okay to me.” 

“Oooh can I-“ Hunk started excitedly, but Allura’s voice cut him off.

“Keith, we all know that something happened that day. Both you and Lance have been off all week, and, even though we just got to know each other, we’re worried about you.” 

“Yeah, Keith. You’re our friend.” 

Keith was staring at the windows, at the trees that lined the patio surrounding the art building, at the painted walls and stains all over the room, at any real thing beside the voices behind him. 

“And Lance cares so much about you too.” Allura said, slowly. 

“He wouldn’t shut up about you after your dancing/drawing sessions. He loved it.” Hunk muttered. It was like they were talking to a wild animal, trying to lure him away. Or, towards them. It didn’t matter. 

 

Keith finally turned around. Allura was still sitting on the table, but now Hunk was next to her, both staring at Keith with worried doe eyes. It pissed Keith off. 

“Allura, are you ready to get back at it?” He said.

She opened her mouth, to say something, and inside of himself Keith screamed for her to _speak_ , to yell at him, to tell him what he did wrong, to let him understand whatever happened. But he stayed silent. And he glared. And she didn’t speak. She crawled into position, spread legs and bowed arms, elegant and silent curves back, staring back at him. 

He controlled it again. This time, he bit his lip so hard it started to bleed, and his hands were white with fury. When Professor Coran walked up to see his work, he grabbed his shoulders and forced him to relax. Setting them back, grabbing the brush from his contracted hand. He made him to stretching exercises, which seemed endless and useless. He stretched his arms, then his wrists, his fingers. His face felt hot because he felt like a little kid being scolded, and because Allura and Hunk were in a corner whispering between each other the whole time. 

Coran put a hand on his shoulder, and looked at him kindly. “You’ve got to be kinder on yourself, Keith. Or you’ll break something that you need.” 

He sighed, “I already broke it.” 

“Then fix it! I suggest nails and hammers, or talking it out.” He patted him three times and then walked away, chirping something about having to redecorate the whole room. 

When he was back at painting, he was a bit calmer. At least his thoughts were kept away, as he finished up the details of Allura’s hair and eyes, and gave it the last sings of light with a warm color. When he was done, he took the painting next to Hunk’s, and showed them to both of them.

“I’m very thankful that you let me paint you.” He choked the unpracticed words out, and felt Shiro’s conscience on him. “I never thought I’d be able to do something like this, but you made it possible.” 

Hunk and Allura smiled, twin cheeks and eyes filled with emotion. 

“Remember that we’re here for anything.”

“And it’s us that are thankful! It’s so cool to be painted, let me tell you that.” 

Keith twirled with his fingers. Then he saw the pamphlets on Coran’s desk. In fact, he was waving a bunch of them in his hand. 

Keith picked them up and stared. It was for the gallery show. The time, place, and name of the artists. And there he was, even though he wasn’t done yet. He felt a sort of jolt through his body, and gave one to Allura and Hunk each. “Here. I hope you come to the show.” 

He kept the image of their happy looks close, because he never thought he’d see it directed to him. 

Once Hunk was standing by the door, and Allura was picking the last couple stuff, and Keith had cleaned up his area, finished paintings joining Pidge’s portrait on a high ledge so they could safely dry completely, he talked. “I just think he hates me now. I ruined it, somehow, and I don’t know what I did.” He doesn’t need to name any names. 

Hunk sighs. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t do anything. Sometimes, things are misunderstood.” 

Allura nods, shouldering her bag. “You should talk to him.” 

Keith shrugs, but nods slowly. They don’t speak the whole out the building, and Keith only opens his mouth again to return their farewells. 

 

Hours later, Keith is sitting in his bed, laptop open and a documentary ready to be played. He’d texted Pidge millions of times already, because she was late, but she wasn’t answering. He clicked the messaging app again, looking at the sent messages. Then he noticed, he’d been left on read (Which he now knew how it looked like because Lance had also left him on read) and he was ready to throw his fucking phone into his stupid wall and hopefully crack a _massive_ whole when he heard laughs in the hallway and someone opening his (locked) door. 

Instead of his phone, he grabbed his desk lamp, and was ready to hit whoever was just breaking in- but instead he saw Shiro’s bright face. 

He dropped the lamp, making a loud _clank!_ sound that made a voice behind his brother yell “what the hell was that!”

“Shiro!” Keith said, shocked, standing. “What are you doing here?” 

His brother was confused for a second, eyebrows going up. “Uh, I work here now?” 

“But you’re supposed to get here in two weeks.” 

“So you’re not happy to see me?” He laughed, and then Keith hugged him, because he hadn’t seen him in _so_ long, and didn’t really notice how much space he really filled. 

“Wait who brought you here? And how did you get in? My door was locked.” 

“Matt picked me up. And that was all Pidge.” He pointed to his back, where the siblings were standing by the doorway, Pidge holding a set of keys that looked too familiar.

“Are those the keys to my bike? What the hell?” Keith started walking towards her, but hit his barefoot on the fallen lamp. “Ow.” 

“Jesus Keith, how do you live like this?” Matt said. 

“Hi Matt, nice to see you too.” Keith growled. Matt waved cheerily. 

Keith reached Pidge while Shiro was looking at his room. He took the keys out of her hand. “My dorm, my bike, my safe? Why do you have this?” 

“You have a safe?” Matt asked. “Who are you?” 

Pidge ignored him. “I made copies of everything because I know you’ll loose them eventually, and I know for a fact that _you_ don’t have any spears.” Keith sputtered. “Relax, your diary is safe from Hunk.” 

“I do not have a diary.” 

Pide shrugged, and adjusted her glasses.

“I’m keeping these.” He said, pocketing the set. 

“You honestly think I only have one copy? How long have we been friends?”

Keith rolled his eyes, and looked back at Shiro. 

“Where you planning to knock me out with this?” Shiro said, holding the lamp in his hands which now looked tiny. 

“I was caught off guard. It was the best think I had.” 

“You could’ve used those fight skills you have?” He smirked, setting the lamp down carefully, and picking up crumpled sheets of paper that were thrown all over the room. 

“Don’t clean my room please, you’re making me feel bad.” 

“It’s like a human doesn’t live here anymore” Matt said, whistling.

And okay, maybe his room was a little dirty, maybe he’d forgotten to take out the trash, or where the trashcan even was, and maybe he hadn’t washed his clothes in too long, but it was bearable.

“What happened here?” Shiro said, looking at the bursting trashcan, not having where to put what he had in his arms. 

“Keith is sad.” Pidge then, with a horrible gravelly voice, growled. “Lance is ignoring me so I stop acting like a normal person.” 

“Shut up.” He said, pushing Pidge while she cackled. “I’m not.” But the name was back, almost at his tongue, and the stupid sharp feeling in his chest, and that dread that followed his limbs feeling heavy, like they were filled with sand. 

“Stop pushing her around.” Shiro said, opening his arms and letting everything fall out. “I’m starving. Can we leave this place and see the real world?”

Keith frowned, and he pushed everyone out, then he closed the door. He breathed in and out once, unclenched his fists because they were starting to hurt, and looked for his shoes while he tried some of the exercises Coran had recommended. 

Before stepping out, he grabbed his backpack, with his money and his sketchbook, because he remembered that he still had to paint Shiro’s portrait, and the gallery was opening on Friday. So he forgot about Lance, about how underneath that fury there was hole that was digging itself deeper in and in, and even though he tried to put the soil back in, it wasn’t enough because it was too deep and it was getting bigger and it was never ending and it was eating him from the inside. But it was fine. Because he could set that aside by that instant flame of anger and that was enough. And now it was better, because his brother was here, and he was staying. And Keith missed him so much. So everything would be fine, even if he never saw Lance again and it hurt him more than anything else, it would be fine. He was used to it. 

So, Keith took a deep breath and opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for taking so long to update- school and life has been keeping me busy and too tired to write, but im on break, and I think I can finally finish this soon. I hope this makes sense, I wrote it throughout a long period of time, and as I wanted to post it as quickly as possible to just do something, I didn't read it completely, but I hope it's at least coherent. 
> 
> Just one more chapter! The next one is going to be long, divided into both Keith and Lance's pov, so basically two parts inside of it. I'm excited to write it! If I take too long again, I apologize, but I'll try my best. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for your comments!


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